The watcher
by Linda Ku
Summary: He is known and yet unknown to the inhabitants of Middle Earth. They call him The Watcher. The man that observes them until they die. He involves himself in no war, merely watches passively as people die... The one ring has returned, and it would seem that with it, The Watcher's choice in staying out of the war is gone. He must fight, but at what cost? LG/HP eventually!


Hello! I know I have other things to write but I've been going through somethings and this story actually came from my experience during my hiatus in writing. This is just a prologue as I want to see where this would go and gauge interest. **Everyone should know that I do NOT own NOR do I make a profit from putting this story up. Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter belong to their respective authors! **

Paring eventually: LG/HP

Note: This is done in Harry's thoughts but is not in 1st person until the very last line! Just thought you should know :)

* * *

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."  
― Lemony Snicket, _Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid_

* * *

Death…such an elusive thing… For when does one know it'll be their time to go? They can pretend to know, they can pretend to feel its icy grip as it forces their soul out of its home within their bodies. They can pretend they have control over death. They can pretend that it's something that won't happen until they, themselves, are ready for it to happen.

But death doesn't play that way.

Death doesn't allow you to have any inkling of its coming. It doesn't allow you to become comfortable with it. It doesn't allow this because where would the fun be if the victim accepted it? There wouldn't be much fun in having a resigned kill. There wouldn't be much fun. . .

And humans know this. They know this instinctively. It is why they fear death so. It is why death is something that they don't talk over. It is why they grieve. They grieve others passing because they are afraid that their time is closer as a result.

They fear death and in time they began to fear anything that represented death. Representation of death came in many forms, demons and witchcraft, monsters, and others. There was no escaping it. Everywhere there was only death.

Interesting that the thing they feared came as a result of their actions. This fear of death is not only prevalent in the human race (both magical and non-magical), it was prevalent everywhere. It is this fear that caused the world to be plunged into a war that would destroy it, piece by agonizing piece.

To think, all this began with one man believing he could cheat death.

Voldemort, even the name is a testament to the man's fear of death. Flight of death indeed…

Death, it seems, had a funny way of catching up on those who wished to escape its grip. It created a 'prophesy' forcing another child to be his killer, hiding behind fabricated words such as fate, and destiny. The child faced the 'prophesy' head on and killed Voldemort. He had done his task and was ready to let himself go, let himself fall into deaths grip and let himself be. The child was done with living after his purpose was over, he had done his task, now he wished to be rid of the burden of living. All the child was waiting for was the cold embrace of death so he could be reunited with his family.

It appeared to not be so.

The child had to watch, undying, as everything crumbled around him. The child had to watch as the world was plunged into a war, Magical versus non-magical. He had to watch as everything he knew and loved was destroyed before his eyes. He had to watch himself become a lab rat and experimented on. He watched as humanity crumbled and destroyed itself. He watched on, never aging, looking very much like the 23 year old man he was when he plunged the sword into Voldemort. He watched on as the second Ice Age swept over the world. He watched it all, his feelings long ago buried, leaving behind a jaded man.

The child watched on as new life sprung up. The sky lost its everlasting red color, grass and trees had begun to spring up from the once barren land. The air had since lost its heavy quality. It was a different time indeed. A time for new beginnings, a new earth… He watched as beings that could wield magic resurfaced, calling themselves Istari. He watched on as beings substantially different in comparison to the Istari surfaced, calling themselves elves. He continued to watch as many more species sprung about: hobbits, dwarves, and orcs; he watched it all. He noticed that man had still retained their hold on the earth however; they were like cockroaches in that sense. They never knew when to die.

Through all this change, the child remained constant, trapped in his everlasting youth.

The child that had saved everyone from Voldemort, but failed to save them from the world, watched on.

The child was no other than Harry Potter, the precious Boy-Who-Lives-As-Everyone-Dies.

That child is me.


End file.
